Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters Read online

  “A mere formality, my friend, you’ve been selected and it’s not something you can say no to. Trust me on that,” she said as she turned back to her desk. “I was shocked when the reality of the world was revealed to me by Dick.”

  “What reality is that?” Muddy asked as he placed his glass on the tray. The President was sending some strong non-verbal signals that this meeting was just about over. He went around the desk and stood in front of it waiting for her to dismiss him. She was silently shuffling through some papers on her blotter and he thought maybe she hadn’t heard his question until she looked up at him with a sad smile.

  “The reality that we’ve all been sold a bill of goods. That there are no political parties, no system, no elections, no real freedom…just the fucking Syndicate, their will and their perverted grand design.”

  “And their grand design is what exactly?” Muddy asked.

  She cackled at him and he took a step back in surprise. “Why, Muddy Brown, I am just touched by your simplicity sometimes! They want the one thing they don’t already have, absolute power. They want to be our gods, Muddy! I am just relieved it will be you in this seat and not me when they try it,” she said and went back to her papers.

  “Try what?” Muddy asked a bit desperately.

  “Oh hell if I know what they are actually planning but it will be big and nasty and it will break the world in the process, of that I am sure.”

  Muddy stared down at her for another minute as she made her notes and picked through the stack of memos until he realized she was done with him and would be providing no further intelligence into Dick or the group he represented. He left her office feeling very confused and quite unhappy as he made his way out of the White House and into his waiting town car. The drive home to his apartment was a long one as he contemplated their conversation. He could really only think of one group that fit the vague description she gave but it was the stuff of urban legends and nut cases. It definitely didn’t fit into the sharp mind of a sitting president, it was just too absurd. But what if it wasn’t?

  Chapter 6: Stories and Kisses

  The Present

  By the time I’d finished bringing my new friends up to speed on my sordid tale, Sam and Jacob were fast asleep, Tessa was quietly seething and everyone stared at me with the dumbfounded expressions of true disbelievers. Everyone but Mark that is. He had seen enough to know that my story had to be mostly true.

  “So,” Lanskey began slowly, “You are being serious right now?”

  “Mr. Lanskey, I urge you to consider your own plight from the last several days. What about that series of events would lead to anything other than solid proof that the story I told you not only makes sense but is true?”

  “I don’t,” he stammered.

  “Yes, that is correct, you don’t have anything further to say because you know I am being truthful. Look, do I need to bring in a few of my friends from outside and put on a dog and pony show for you?” The collective shout of dissent hurt my ears. “That issue is settled then, agreed?” I asked.

  “Nothing is settled,” Tessa bellowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  In a court of law I would have testified that I heard her mumble under her breath that I was a crazy fucker, but I decided not to make a big deal out of it. I did need her to help me.

  “What is settled is that I was telling the truth about the Sickness, the zombies, myself, all of it. Furthermore, there is something salacious going on Downtown. I aim to breach the city, find my girlfriend and shine a light on what has obviously become the hub of this entire event. I need you all to accompany me.”

  At this point the room was generally silent while people inspected their shoes or the walls. Mark stepped up to me and beckoned me closer to tell me a secret. “Laying it on a little thick with whole antihero thing don’t ya think, chief?” he whispered.

  “You think?” I asked quietly.

  “I do,” he said, “I would wager most of these guys don’t even know what salacious means.”

  “It means obscene,” I said to the room. “Salacious means obscene.”

  Mark just hung his head as I plodded onward in my awkward and somewhat condescending attempt to convince this ragtag group of people, most of whom hated me or thought I was crazy, to help me.

  “Obscene as in whatever is going on behind the gates across the river and under the lights is evil and most likely where we will find the cause for the devastation we’ve endured since last summer. A cause means maybe there is cure. A cure means maybe there is a way out of this for the handful of people left alive.”

  As captivating as dirty walls and worn-out shoes could be, their eyes were on me now. I could see I was starting to reach them. “I can’t do it without you. As much as I can control the zombies, at the end of the day they are just that, zombies. I need rational, thinking, feeling people. You are the unfortunate few to have crossed my path. For some crazy reason that means I can trust you because you’ve demonstrated you will do anything to survive. I need that. I need you.”

  “Why don’t you just turn yourself in?” Tessa asked.

  “Because I’m not ready to be anyone’s science experiment. I’m going in to that city, but it’s gonna be on my terms.”

  “Going into that city is suicide,” said Steven to the general agreement of the room. There is always one naysayer in a group.

  “Staying out here is worse,” I told them with the conviction of a Baptist minister. “A long slow death by cold, thirst or starvation. That’s only if the undead don’t get you first. But you are correct, Steven, death inside the city is possible, maybe even probable. But if it means anything to go out fighting the people who brought this on then we have that. That is honorable at least, better than dying cold and alone for nothing.” I let that hang for a beat before adding, “Who is with me?”

  Crickets bellowed in my mind like a hot June night at a northern Minnesota camp ground. Then finally Lanskey stepped up. “I’m in. I would love to draw a bead on that asshole Morgan if he is still alive in there.”

  “I go where he goes,” said Wilson.

  The four men who had been with Steven and Tessa had been huddled together whispering a few feet away from their former boss. Their spokesman, a guy named Randolph, took a step forward. “We’ll throw in with you on one condition. We don’t go anywhere until we are armed to the teeth and we get a say on any tactical plans.” Randolph said.

  “Done,” I told him.

  “For whatever its worth, the boys and I are with you now for the duration,” Mark said with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed. I had a feeling there were tears in his eyes. I knew I was asking a lot of him.

  “It’s worth a lot, Mark, thank you. I told you once everything was going to be okay, that’s truer today than ever before. Do you believe me?” I asked.

  He looked up at me and wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded his head once before returning to where Sam and Jacob were sleeping. He got on the floor and pulled them close. An instant later he was softly snoring as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His fate was sealed and he had found peace.

  That left only the two love birds, crazy Steven and crazier Tessa. My two wild cards and perhaps the people I needed more than any of the others were I to have any chance of saving Daisy. They stood in silence towards the back of the room watching me, a foot of space separating them. They were not touching. I approached them cautiously like I would have approached a pair of rabid dogs. “So, Tessa, Steven, what’s it gonna be? Tag along with your old buddy, George, or brave the wilds on your own?” I asked.

  I noticed Steven was shaking a little, whether from the cold or from just being nuts I will never know. He took a half step towards me and then another until we were close enough for slow dancing. I braced myself for a fight. Instead I received my first real surprise since I rescued Mark and the boys. He eased his arms up from his waist until both hands gripped my shoulders. With his dark eyes borin
g into mine he said calmly, “I’m in,” then in a traditional European greeting, he pulled my head forward and kissed me gently on each bearded cheek. I was too stunned to say anything as he released me to join the others in the room.

  I turned back to Tessa, surprised to find her just as close to me as Steven had been. The hatred and craziness in her eyes were unmistakable. I wondered if she still had that knife Mark had mentioned earlier. “I don’t like you, George, I never have. I tried to kill you once and can’t promise I won’t do it again but I guess I decided I believe you, so for now I’m in,” she said.

  She had her arms around my neck so fast I couldn’t even shout. My moment of panic changed again to surprise as I realized she was kissing me. Unlike Steven, she had chosen a specific region of Europe for her kiss. Her breath tasted like peppers and her tongue was very wet as it slid temporarily between my lips and along the edge of my front teeth. Then it was over and she pulled away from me. She stood in front of me with a wicked smile on her face. “An agreement sealed with a kiss is strong but a wet kiss is forever,” she said before sauntering away to rejoin Steven and the others.

  Just as I had when I entered the room earlier in the evening, I stood watching the group as they warily began to set boundaries and assume roles. I had just been kissed by Steven and Tessa. I felt at once violated and secure. We were all gonna die, that’s all I knew for sure.

  …

  A short while later we were on a recon mission to get a feel for the lay of the land. We were on the roof of a building half a block northeast of the Third Avenue Bridge overlooking Minneapolis. I was with Tessa, Randolph and Lanskey, huddled in the freezing darkness of an early January evening. The trek to this place from Elsie’s was easy but nerve wracking for my three cohorts due to the hordes of zombies encamped in northeast Minneapolis. I am pretty sure my constant reassurances of their safety fell on deaf ears.

  Tessa was vomiting in a dark corner of the roof. Likely a combination of nerves and climbing 14 flights of stairs were the culprit of her current unhappy condition. Lanskey and Randolph were kneeling at the edge of the three foot safety wall that ringed the perimeter of the building. They were busy passing binoculars back and forth and muttering to each other about the situation on the bridge. I stood passively behind them stealing glances at Tessa retching in the corner. I was feeling guilty about that kiss, though I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t as if I’d leaned in with my lips parted or anything. Besides, it had meant nothing, I was deeply in love with my missing Daisy. I kept trying to picture her serene beauty in my mind’s eye but Tessa’s crazy face kept creeping in.

  “George!” Lanskey yelled quietly.

  He was standing right in front of me and I hadn’t noticed him.

  “Hi, Jim,” I muttered, suddenly focused on him.

  “Shit!” he cussed. “You can be a scary dude when you want to be, George. Were you in a daze or something?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “So what do you guys think?” I asked as Randolph joined the conversation making us a trio.

  “I think we’re fucked,” said Lanskey, groaning as he made room for Tessa who was sidling over to us wiping vomit from her mouth with one gloved hand. “You okay, princess?” he asked her.

  “Fug youself” she muttered in reply. Shooting daggers into us with her eyes.

  That settled, Randolph cleared his throat and gave us the information we pretty much already knew, at least I did. The Hennepin Avenue, 35W and 3rd Avenue bridges were gated off and guarded like Fort Knox and the White House. From our vantage point there was no way to cross the river except by air. Assuming we had access to aircraft of any kind, which we didn’t, doing so would be unadvisable due to the heavily fortified position of the guards on the bridges and beyond. The zombies on our side of the Mississippi River were useless because of the water, the gates and whatever strange technology they were using to keep the creatures at bay.

  “Options?” I asked. A moment of silence stretched into a full five minutes of brains working overtime for ideas. In the stillness of the cold winter night I could almost hear the gears churning in their heads.

  “What if we head east or west and cross the river at a different bridge like in Camden or over in St. Paul?” suggested Lanskey.

  It wasn’t a bad idea but would require time which I felt was a dwindling resource we couldn’t afford to waste and I said as much to the group. This reminder was met only with grunts and one shake of the head. I could only imagine the twisted experiments my father was conducting on Daisy as we impotently plotted on that rooftop. Besides I already knew it was a no go. With the unwitting help of my zombie friends I had examined the perimeter of the city. It was fortified from the warehouse district all the way to uptown and back down again along the east side. This news was met with hateful acceptance as I relayed it to the group.

  “We could boat across, the river is still open. We get a boat and move up river a half mile or so. We should be able to get across unseen,” said Randolph.

  “You don’t think those guards would anticipate a river crossing?” said Tessa.

  “It would like shooting fish in a barrel,” added Lanskey

  “More like ducks on a pond,” said Tessa.

  “It was just a suggestion,” hissed Randolph.

  This escalated into a somewhat heated argument, both about the merits of Randolph’s idea and the appropriate dreary analogy to attach to it.

  “What if we went under it?” I asked. At first they ignored me so I repeated myself. The second time I said it broke through the sounds of their ridiculous argument and the three of them looked at me like I had three eyes.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Tessa.

  “I’m talking about going under the river.”

  “If you mean swim, you can forget about it. The water is too fucking cold and furthermore, the current would sweep us up river and drown us before we made it fifty yards.

  “No, I mean literally under the river, through the caves.”

  Once again I was assaulted by dubious expressions on their faces. I was a little offended. “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m crazy, it’s just a thought. I saw this news clip one time. Minneapolis is loaded with underground natural caves. The flour mill across the way had a whole networking system built into them about a million years ago for steam power or some shit like that. If memory serves, the tunnels were rumored to extend all the way under the river to this side. They have been closed for eons so the chances that whoever is controlling the city is worried about possible entry under their feet are pretty low.”

  “So you want to go searching for a possible tunnel that most likely doesn’t exist somewhere on this side of the river?” Randolph asked sarcastically.

  “We don’t have time for a useless haystack search right now, George. It’s getting colder every day. We either need to figure out this city madness right away or start talking about a trip south for the winter,” said Lanskey.”

  “Looking for a needle in a haystack wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I told them. When I finished my brief explanation I could see they didn’t really believe me, which I found amazing considering what they’d already seen me do.

  “Georgie, you are a special kind of stupid but if what you say is possible then we might as well give it a shot. While you’re at it, the brain trust here and I will keep spit-balling ideas in case your plan doesn’t work,” Tessa said.

  That seemed like an agreeable idea.

  Chapter 7: Project Simon

  The Past

  Much like his first encounter with Dick the lunatic, Dr. Andrew Penrod’s first memories of Area 51 were frozen into his mind with bitter clarity.

  The massive well-lit hanger that captured his attention from the small window of the jet could have been anything really. But the glances he stole at the very smug looking Dick confirmed this would be a night of continual surprises for Andrew.

  Upon landing he was passed off to a group of dour-lo
oking security personnel. His shouted questions were ignored by Dick and the security team as they ushered him rudely into the facility. As the large steel elevator doors closed, his last visual of Dick was of the man sipping coffee as he stood on the tarmac.

  They descended to some unknown depth before the doors opened to a lobby area devoid of any seating options. Beyond the lobby was a large half-oval shaped security desk manned by a team of five people. The gleaming metallic walls of the room hurt his eyes as they approached the bulletproof glass that separated the security desk from the lobby. Andrew was reminded of a DMV office on steroids.

  Still nobody would answer his questions as he was put through a battery of security protocols. Eventually he stopped asking questions and endured his fear in silence. He was issued a badge, retinal and fingerprint scans and a brief explanation on how to navigate the secure areas. He was barely listening which was fine as he was to be assigned a personal guide for the first few days of his stay to ensure he understood where to go and when to be there. His guide was a surly looking guard with a nametag that read; Horace.

  Horace was a man of few words. After proceeding through the security check points they took another elevator to Level 5, the lowest option. He explained the cavernous floor was split into two areas. One was basically a living area and the other half was dedicated to research. Then he showed Andrew the cafeteria, the gym, the entertainment center and the conference room with the promise he would see the other half the next morning.

  Lastly, he escorted Andrew to his quarters. They were located past the gym down a long corridor filled with identical doors. The only distinguishing features were the numbers, 100, 101, 102, etc. His was 153; he stifled a gasp when Horace opened the door to reveal a small sitting room filled with Andrew’s stuff. Packed and transported all the way from his apartment in Virginia and unpacked the way they had been arranged back home. He shot a look at Horace, who was standing by the door. Horace was staring back at him blandly but offered no explanation.